


Spider-Boy

by Deko_Ni



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, BestfriendNed, Hurt/Comfort, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Secret Identity, Stark Tower, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Superfamily (Marvel), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, superdads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 17:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deko_Ni/pseuds/Deko_Ni
Summary: Peter Parker finds himself in Stark towers. But for none of the reasons he hoped for. All he really needs is some things to clean his nasty wounds, but apparently the tower wasn't as empty as he'd suspected.





	1. Chapter 1

And there stood Stark tower, second-tallest building in Manhattan in all its splendor. Peter Parker sat on its roof, drenched from the rain currently pouring down from an almost never-ending storm.  
Peter had been out patrolling, caught wind of something he shouldn’t have, and turned in that direction. The people that had been picked up by his senses were wild, rough, and open to murder if need be. And they tried to do just that. The moment they realized that Spiderman had been eavesdropping in on their conversation, they reacted in unison- pulling out weapons and aiming to kill.  
But now he was sitting on the roof of Stark tower, crawling his way over to the glass door and praying beyond hope that no one was around to see him. He really, really didn’t want to go in. He didn’t want to be seen, but he didn’t know where else to go.   
His body wasn’t able to hold himself up any longer than it had already done.   
Peter made it to the door, thanking anyone that could hear him when he found that it was unlocked. To his shock and surprise, a massive living room/ bar was the first thing that greeted him. The space was warm and welcoming, but this wasn’t what he was hoping to find.   
His side burned with pain and he forced himself to limp over to the bar area, snagging a bottle of Vodka that was a quarter of the way full.   
No such luck for any bandages or warm clothes, though.  
It was 5 pm. High school had just ended for the day and by the looks and sounds within the building, it seemed that everyone had stepped out for the night. Whoever had been here at least. Peter really doubted anything the news said about all the Avengers living here. Tony Stark would most likely have a fit.  
At least, from what he knew about the billionaire, which wasn't much.  
He glanced around quickly, taking note that, like an idiot, he'd left water all over the floor from the outside.   
Not that he didn't want to make a mess, more so that he didn't want any evidence of his presence in the building at all.  
He needed to find a bathroom, patch himself up, and head right back out. Even though nobody was really looking for him. Or waiting for him.  
With a defeated sigh, he stored the Vodka bottle in the crook of his arm and unsteadily made his way through another door, using the walls as support. The halls were wide and swerving in every direction he could make out. There were doors in almost every corner and each one of them was closed.   
Great. Great. More of a chance of losing consciousness out in the open before I even find a bathroom in the first place.  
He needed somewhere to hide and clean his wounds. He would've loved to do it outside under whatever shelter he could find and not get caught, but he couldn't force himself to step out. Not anymore. Not now that his brain was fighting his body just to stay awake long enough not to die of infection.  
If only he had his backpack. His charger and his dead phone were in there, so were his clothes, but he'd left that somewhere behind a garbage can in an alleyway.  
He could've charged his phone and quickly texted Ned over Facebook to let him know he was doing alright. Except he wasn't. Not now and not ever.  
The poor sap had basically drained his battery texting him and attempting to call him over 25 times. He was forced to turn it off. Not that it helped. His phone still died anyway.  
He patted his way down the hall, listening into the clothes doors to make sure he truly was alone and to not accidentally barge into someone's bedroom without realizing it. If the Avengers really did happen to be living here.  
But everything was dead silent. It was kind of unnerving if Peter wasn't trying to keep as quiet as possible himself.  
He'd gone through a number of doors at this point, his feet shuffling and struggling to keep him upright. He was just about to lose hope until a door revealed a tiled room with a massive sized shower at one wall and a sink with a full view mirror on the other side.   
Thank God.   
With a great sigh, he pushed himself fully into the room, closed the door, and felt around for a light switch before he was finally able to see.  
He dropped to the pristine toilet seat and edged himself close enough to the sink to grab handfuls of clean water to splash on his face.  
He was already wet from the rain, but this water was much cleaner compared to the sludge he had to get through in order to get out of the alley in the first place.   
The Vodka bottle sat ominously on the floor beside his feet. That was only precaution in case he really needed it.  
And looking through the cabinet, yeah, it would appear that there was nothing else to disinfect a wound in the room.  
Fantastic.  
He did find a roll of gauze however. Thankfully.  
Without a second's thought, he pulled off his mask and the top half of his suit, letting it pool at his hips.  
Just that act strained him to heavy pants, sweat beading down his neck and on his forehead. He was in worse shape than she thought.   
His chest was covered in bludgeons from metal pipes, arms left bruised with hand prints, a slowly forming black eye, and the worst- three long gashes from a switchblade running down his ribs to his hip.  
In short, he was pretty messed up and so was his suit. One of his web shooters had run out completely of web fluid on top of that. So, he would have to deal with that and an escape plan later.  
Oh man, what did i just get himself into?  
Bracing himself, he took a cloth from the hook beside him and poured water and an ample amount of Vodka onto it.  
God, this was gonna hurt. A lot. He ran a hand through his hair and took one last final calming breath.  
And just like that, he pushed the towel against his wound and instantly regretted it.   
The pain was excruciating. If he had to guess, Vodka was a lot worse than he thought. Actually, he knew it was a lot worse from experience.  
But he kept pushing on the wound, trying his best not to scream out. It needed to be disinfected before… before the next thing he knew he had to do. One of the gashes had been so large that it merged with the second and left a gaping slice.   
Oh, God.  
He hoped no one was in the building. He was completely vulnerable at the moment and there was no way he'd be able to come up with a plausible excuse in his condition.  
I am so screwed.  
Finally, he removed the towel, too afraid to even look at the wound at this point. The next thing to come would be one of the hardest. And Peter was in no way looking forward to that.  
He placed the now empty Vodka bottle on top of the sink, his mask right beside it, and searched the bottom cabinet in hopes of what he needed.  
And there they were. Needles nestled into a plastic box with an array of differently colored and strengthened spools of thread. Now he really had no choice but to do what he had to.  
Can't use the excuse that the things aren't there. Too bad.  
He wasn't exactly an expert at sewing, but he'd patched up a few holes in his suit before. Shouldn't be any different. Except this time it was skin. On his own body.  
Good job, Spiderman.  
“Alright, let's make this quick.” he mumbled to himself, gritting his teeth and preparing himself for what would be next.  
He quickly chose a thread, looped it through the needle and braced himself as he made the first stitch.   
“God!”   
A sound outside was made, footsteps, a door opening, and then a surprised shout.  
“Oh shit, shit.”  
Blood was pouring through his fingers, thread cutting through his skin, and he was too shocked to move. He didn't know what to do.  
His breathing got ragged and he forced himself to let go of the needle and let it dangle at his side with three stitches still tight on his wound.  
The footsteps were getting closer and helped there was no way he'd be able to run from the room and… and go where? He hadn't even bothered to scout the area, find a window, nothing. He was much too weak to even get up as a matter of fact.  
The footsteps stopped beside the bathroom door.  
As a split second decision, he grasped his mask and yanked it from the sink.  
The bottle of Vodka came crashing down with it, smashing the moment it touched the tile.  
And then a series of things happened. The bottle shattered, his mask fell from his grip, and the door flew open.


	2. Bad news, Pete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Parker is in major trouble. Iron Man himself has a lot to say about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real quick, I would like to thank everyone for the feedback. It really means a lot to me.  
> So, leave a comment if you can.  
> Also, I apologize for the short chapter.  
> I plan on updating every week, but I guess we'll just have to see.
> 
> This story will go a long way for me.

The door… flew open.

And Peter was Peter. Without his mask and in plain view to Mr. Tony Stark.

Oh god oh god oh god. Oh my god. Holy shit.  
Shitshitshitshitshitshit!

Peter could not believe his luck. Or rather, non luck.

Holy. Shit.

He was frozen to the core, his eyes blown wide and his heart beating out of his chest.

The same could be said for Tony Stark. He stood where he was, hand still on the doorknob in a vice grip. His mouth opening and closing like a fish would.

Finally, he said, “What the hell? What the hell is Spiderman doing here?”

Oh man.

Peter sat and sat. His heart continued to thrum in his chest. His voice caught in his throat. And his breathe… caught in his throat.

And he suddenly couldn't breathe.

Oh god, he couldn't breathe.

He heaved in a breath. A heavy, heavy breath… and then couldn't release it. A gasp of air escaped his lips and when he tried to breathe in again, nothing would follow.

Am I hyperventilating?

Definitely.

The air wouldn't enter his lungs and he shook with the sudden exhaustion of trying to get it to happen.

“Hey,” he heard the iron man say. “Hey, kid, take a deep breath.”

Oh god, but I can't.

His lungs burned from the inside, forcing him to completely cut off the airflow even as he tried once more to breathe.

Mr. Stark just walked in. He knows who I am.

Oh my god, he knows who I am.

And then a hand rested at his shoulder before working its was around to the center of his back where it rubbed brisk circles.

Peter's skin was uncomfortably clammy and he was keenly aware that Mr. Stark's was freezing. He was thankful for that at least.

But oh my god, he knows who I am!

“...d. Kid.” Tony Stark was trying to talk to him again. “I need you to breathe, in an out. Long breaths. Hold three seconds, release for two.”

Peter tried his best, listening to the man as he repeated “three seconds in, two seconds out”, and breathed the best he could. It hurt, it burned his lungs and pulled at the gashes at his side, but at least he was finally able to breathe.

Oh god, oh thank god. Oh my god.

“Shit.” Peter mumbled.

“Yeah. Shit indeed.” Tony Stark returned to the bathroom door and to Peter's horror, shut it behind him.

Now he was alone with Iron Man of all people, unmasked, and bleeding profusely, the needle still hanging from his wound. This night couldn't get any stranger for Peter. It was not what he'd been expecting to get out of an afternoon patrol. None of this, from getting beat down to having Tony Stark figure out his secret identity. Though, figure out would require research and work, this was more like walking into an idiot teenager.

Actually, it was exactly like that.

Mr. Stark continued to stand where he was in between Peter and the door. He glanced at the glass covering the tile floor and sighed before looking back up at the teen.

“I have so many questions for you right now, kid.” Tony moved to the corner of the bathroom and grabbed a broom. As he swept up the glass from the floor, he kept talking.

“So, first off, you're Spiderman.”

He didn't ask, persay. But he said in such a matter of fact tone that Peter considered lying about the fact and saying he was cosplaying only to hold his tongue instead.

With the glass all swept up, Tony looked back up. “And somehow you got into the tower without FRIDAY alerting me?”


	3. Hey, Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does a hero so young deal with so much? Tony Stark wonders the same thing.

“Forgive me, but my protocol was to allow him in.” The voice of the AI surrounded the room, startling Peter in the process.

“What?” Both Stark and Peter said in unison.

Peter looked away in embarrassment when the two made eye contact.

“Yes, sir. An injured hero that only needed assistance. He intended no harm.”

At this, the billionaire sighed and raked his hand through his hair before finally regaining his composure. “Sure, I get it. But why didn’t you tell me you were letting someone in?”

“I was just about to, but you were already on the floor, sir.”

“Cool. Thanks, FRIDAY. I fear one day you really might become Pepper.” 

“Who's Pepper?” Peter asked before he could stop himself. In reality, it was a pretty stupid question considering he'd seen her a few times on TV in Stark interviews-

“Not right now, kid.” Tony interrupted. His arms automatically crossed over his chest like a parent’s would. “I wanna know how you of all people are that masked vigilante that can lift a frickin’ truck with his bare hands. Also, how you do that running around in a onesie.”

A onesie? It's literally work out clothes and a hoodie. “I used whatever I could. And, no-”

“You've gotta be shitting me!”

He didn't even let me finish.

“Were you trying to sew your own wound together?!”

Oh. That.

Tony leaned down now, his knees tucked uncomfortably in a sitting position. His eyes, however, scanned over the battered body of the teen as he assessed the situation. “This.” he waved dramatically at the injuries. “This is not okay. You should've gone to a doctor or at least gotten home.”

If I had one to get to.

“Look, Mr. Stark,” Peter steeled himself, “I was doing fine. I-I have a healing factor so I just need to wait a day or two and I'll be perfectly fine anyway. I mean, you were kidnapped and were able to take care of yourself-”

“You're 14, I was an adult when that shit happened.”

“15.”

Oh my god, shut up, Peter!

“No, you listen to me. I don't care what age you are. You're a kid and in no way is this okay. Do you understand me?” 

And like that, Tony Stark sounded exactly like Aunt May. He sounded like he cared and his tone was so serious it actually shook Peter. Never had his calm, careless demeanor on TV been open to this sudden seriousness.The idea that Tony Stark had a heart was unimaginable. But here it was. Peter was finding that out in a bathroom in Stark Tower of all places.

Who knew.

“I-I'm sorry.” Peter found himself stuttering. “I understand.” He looked away in shame, his eyes falling to the wallpaper of the bathroom as he busied himself with counting the white flowered pattern.

There was a hand taking hold of the needle and removing what thread had been stitched carelessly into the wound. Peter grit his teeth and didn't make a sound, too afraid to disappoint Iron Man any further. The sounds of cabinets being opened and things moving around in the bathroom quickly became background noise to the counting going on in Peter's mind.

23

24

25

26

27

28

“So, what's your name?”

29

30

I can't tell him that.

“I can't keep calling you kid.”

“I don't mind.”

31

32

33

34

“Alright, kid. I get it. Okay, so how about your family?” The faucet turned on and a towel was flung over Tony's shoulder. “Do they live nearby? Anywhere I can drop you off afterwards?”

35

36…

37…

…

38

…

“Don't have any.”

Why did I say that?

“Not anymore.”

And an uncomfortable silence followed immediately afterwards. No more flowers to count on that side of the wall. No more sounds made by the ushering of boxes and medical equipment.

But Tony Stark did lean down once more. He made himself eye level with Peter and offers him a pat on the knee.

“You're a strong kid, I can tell. Not just because you're Spiderman, but I can just tell. You're going to be alright. We've gotta stick together,you and me, we're pretty alike whether you like it or not. I don't really know your opinion of me so I can't tell. Anyway, I'm not really too good at this sentimental stuff.”

“Neither am I.”

“Great, one thing in common.”

Peter smiled.

“Right.” Tony stood back up and clapped his hands. “We're missing a few things. I've got everything in the med bay, so taking a field trip down there might be in order.” He turned to his things and returned them to the cabinets they belonged in. “Come on. Up you get, Underoos.”

Tony opened the door and helped Peter to his feet, keeping one arm around his back and the other to support his full weight.

Peter stopped before the stepping out of the bathroom however, his anxiety suddenly getting the better of him. Also, the need to keep his identity hidden to as many people as possible now that Tony Stark knew who he was. “Mr. Stark, is there anyone besides us in the tower?”

“Steve and Bucky are probably training down in the lower levels.” He quickly reassured Peter when his nervousness grew tangible. “But we won't be headed anywhere near there. Med bay's two floors above them so don't worry about that.”

He pulled Peter through the doorway with some effort until the teen began to walk heavily beside him. He was following at least- no longer having to worry about anyone seeing him. Or seeing the kid that Spiderman actually was. His sweatshirt, hoodie, and mask were tucked tightly under his arm. Not once, however, did he look down at his mask.

“Those two clowns will probably be down there until midnight.” 

Peter realized he was still talking about Steve and Bucky.

“I doubt they train the whole time. Most likely sit there trying to figure out what a cell phone is.”

Peter laughed and Tony hoped that he could hear it happen again. The kid looked and felt so sad that just heading him laugh made Tony feel like the world could one day be a better place. He would at least try and start with this one person who happened upon his building in search of help.

They took the elevator down, FRIDAY making casual conversation with Tony over the occupants within the building and those currently on mission- telling him when their return was to be expected. Peter didn't mind the talk between Iron Man and the AI, but merely indulged in it and quickly became fascinated with the mechanics of it and how it worked.

Peter, in his haze filled mind, found that maybe landing himself in Stark tower wasn't so bad.

When was the last time I actually talked to someone? When was the last time I talked to Ned?


	4. Science can be a distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How exactly do you talk to THE Iron man?  
> Peter Parker gets to talk science with Tony Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait, but I've had so much on my plate recently. Here's this chapter to make up for it. I do plan on continuing this fic and posting as regularly as possible.  
> Once again, I apologize, but here it is!  
> Enjoy

 With a frown, Peter allowed himself to be led down to the med bay, though he kept his eyes peeled and his senses sharp for anyone else that might be on the floor with them.

Thankfully, nobody else was in sight and it was just him and Tony Stark.

Tony Stark.

He was still dumbfounded that he was being guided through Stark tower by the famous billionaire. Even if it was due to an injury as Spiderman and Mr. Stark finding out his secret identity. Still, he couldn’t help geeking out just a bit.

He wanted to meet the Avengers too considering he was made plainly aware that two of them were just below, but he kept his mouth shut about that.

Maybe some other time. If I ever get the chance.

Now he was just making himself sad. So, he placed his full attention on the room they were in- fully stocked on medical supplies and bigger than even his apartment with Aunt May.

Don’t make this depressing, Peter. Tony Stark is literally helping you onto a table in Stark towers.

How embarrassing.

“Alright, kid,” Tony said, his hands already finding their way to a sink to be washed. “I’ve still got tons of questions, but we’ll leave it for after I’m done fixing you up.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something but was quickly cut off by a glare.

“I mean it. We’re talking about all this whether you like it or not.”

Oh, I most likely will not.

With a satisfied nod, Tony turned back to what he was doing and retrieved whatever it was that he would need. Needle, thread, bottle of rubbing alcohol, cloth, you name it. He knew exactly what he was doing and Peter didn’t question it knowing the things he read about Iron Man in the paper.

He risked his life to save New York from aliens just over a year ago for God’s sake.

The Avengers were there to help, but still.

This guy was.

“Badass.”

“What?”

“Oh.”

I said that out loud.

“Uh… sorry, nothing, Mr. Stark.”

“You keep that cursing on the down low, you hear me?” And suddenly he was serious again. “Don’t want Cap to hear you.”

Peter quirked an eyebrow. “You mean Captain America?”

“Yeah, the guy’s like 100 years old. Still stuck in the old days.”

Peter laughed.

Yeah, that was pretty hilarious to hear about the one and only Star-spangled hero.

“Okay.” Tony set down all his equipment on the table beside Peter. “Do you want to do this sitting or lying down?”

Without a moment’s thought, he settled for sitting. With a little persuasion from his Spider-senses, he wanted to be ready for anything.

He glanced down at his wrists to find the web-shooters still there.

Good. There was just enough for one more move.

Hopefully.

Tony set to working on a chair beside the table, hurriedly disinfecting the wound and the hooked needle with a red thread. “Using a bright color just so I’ll be able to see it better.”

Peter nodded.

He would’ve made a joke, but seeing the needle up close pretty much terrified him. Even though he had already willingly tried to do it himself, but still. This was way freakier.

“So, I’ve got Morphine or we could-”

“Won’t work,” he quickly said.

“What won’t?”

“Painkillers. My fast metabolism basically negates the effects.”

“Jesus, Kid. What else do you have?”

“Super healing, super strength, the ability to climb walls, spider senses, the works.”

“Uh huh.” He looked at Peter now, curiosity and horror evidently growing. “You don’t use actual webs, do you?”

“No, of course not.” His voice nearly cracked when he said that. “I make them myself.”

Tony pulled the thread through the needle and let out an exasperated laugh. “From what I’ve seen, they can’t be homemade. Those are some industrial strength strings you’ve got, kid.”

Peter took a breath when the first stitch was made, but continued talking- glad for the distraction. “I go to Midtown school of Science and Technology.” The sweatshirt in his lap reminded him and he quickly drew it up to show the school symbol on it. He grit his teeth and struggled with his next words as he attempted not to flinch. “They’ve got this really neat science lab. Whenever I finish my assignment early, I get to work on the web fluid.”

At his questioning glance, Peter explained in detail.

“The webs are a polyamide, so I guess they would be a lot comparable to Nylon. I store them in these,” he revealed the cartridges of web fluid on his wrist, “though they’re all empty except one. It’s not too difficult to make in a relative sense, just gotta alter the chemical compound a bit.”

“What’s the heaviest thing you’ve ever lifted with that stuff?”

To Peter, the subject was exciting to talk about. With Iron man no less.

“Cars mostly. I think the biggest thing would be like a bus. Haven’t had the opportunity to test it out. Work in progress.”

“We do have a lab down in the lower floors,” Stark said. “I’m sure it’s got all the essentials to improve on than your school does.”

“Oh, definitely, Mr. Stark.”

“Alright, kid, all done.”

And when he looked down

Yeah, it was all done.

Stitched up and wrapped enough so that he wouldn’t remove anything with his spider-like antics. Swinging across buildings, fighting crime; doing as a spider does.

Not really.

“So, uh…” He chose his next words carefully. “Thanks for patching me up and all, but I’ve gotta get going. You know, gotta fight crime and stuff.”

“No,” Tony said, “You promised you’d answer some questions. Like hell you’re leaving now. Purse thief victims can handle themselves. Cops are a thing for a reason. Sure they’ll be fine without their Friendly neighborhood Spiderman for a little while.”

He moved away from the table and motioned for Peter to follow him. “Get over here, kid. I’m not talking to you up there.”

“Would you prefer if I was on the roof?” Peter joked.

“Not funny, kid.”

Peter sighed and followed him towards a couple of chairs lined up against one wall. They weren’t the comfiest, but they would do. For whatever conversation he was about to have with Tony Stark at least.

Tony pulled a chair forward once the kid was settled down and crossed his arms over the back. His body language said chill, but his face meant business.

Oh boy.

“So. How long have you been Spiderman?”

“Oh.”

Good, Superhero questions he could handle.

“A little before the whole alien attack on New York.” He forced himself to think. “A month before I guess. So more than a year.”

“What gave it to you? Radioactive waste? A wizard or something?”

“Radioactive spider,” he said quickly. “Happened on a field trip to a science corporation where they were testing enhanced abilities and serums on some stuff. One got loose and bit me.”

Stark nodded, his eyes shutting for a second before he looked back at Peter; eyes locking uncomfortably with his. “If you don’t have anyone for me to call to pick you up, where have you been living?”

Oh.


	5. Eavesdropping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you get when add an emotional Peter to the shock of meeting his hero Tony Stark? A big mess, that's what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to update more regularly.  
> Leave a comment if you have suggestions XD

“Did I say I didn’t?” 

Think of something quick, Peter, you’re smart. 

Yeah, but so is he.

“I meant, they don’t have a cellphone. They, uh, I live with my Aunt.”

No I don’t.

But Tony wasn’t buying it. He sat straighter in his chair and refused to break eye contact with Peter. “Look, kid, you’re not a good liar.”

Oh, shit.

“Just earlier you said you had no one to go back to at home. What’s really going on?”

Peter gulped, his mind working twice as fast to make an excuse. 

I could just lie again.

But he knows.

What's he gonna do if I tell him the truth?

“I'm not going into Foster care.”

Tony Stark froze.

And so did Peter. What he said had just slipped out, he didn't intend for it to, but it just did.

It was true, though. He just couldn't do it. He couldn't have another family replace Aunt May or if not, he couldn't stand the thought of waiting until he was 18 before he was pulled from the system and forced to live on his own.

He was scared.

“Please, Mr. Stark. My Aunt was all I had, but I can't go there.”

I can't.

But Tony nodded. He at least understood what Peter was desperately asking. “I get it, kid, but that's not what I asked. Where have you been living? When did your Aunt die?”

That… was not the best way to put it.

Tony seemed to realize his mistake too, but Peter answered either way.

“A week.” The fear was still evident in his voice. “I've been staying in an old w-warehouse for the time being.”

God, don't stutter. And please don't cry.

He fought back the stinging in his eyes. But he swallowed noticeably and toughed it out. “I’m okay, though.” 

Tony glanced down at the injury at the kids side and quirked an eyebrow as if to say “really?”

“I mean,” he corrected himself, “I was. I was doing fine. Some crooks just got the drop on me is all.”

“Kid, I’ve seen you get the drop on a group of people three times your size. In what way could they have gotten ‘the drop’ on you?”

He kept his mouth shut, knowing exactly the why and how.

But Tony seemed to figure it out too. In a second, his face changed from confused, to worried, to understanding, and then just outright frustrated.

“Does it have something to do with that metabolism of yours?”

“No.”

Too fast.

“Yeah, just as I thought.” Mr. Stark pulled out his phone and immediately started texting someone.

Peter grew exponentially anxious about it, but refrained from asking as to not seem nosey.

“When was the last time you ate something?”

Oh, great. 

“Um…”

Without even glancing up from the phone’s screen, he nodded his head. “Too long, then.” He sent his message and returned his phone to the pocket of what appeared to be workout clothes. His gaze returned to Peter quickly. “I just ordered us a pizza.” At the kid’s movement and sudden urge to disagree, he continued. “You’re going to go take a shower and then join me for some food, you hear me?”

Peter lowered his head, thoughts racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out what to say. He couldn’t think of anything. So instead, he simply nodded.

“Goddamn 15 year old. Are you kidding me?” Tony said more to himself.

“M-Mr. Stark.” Peter steeled himself, realizing he needed to ask this before anything else happened. He was just too worried about it to keep it under wraps. “Is there- uh, is- could I borrow a phone or something?”

“Why?” He asked.

“I- I forgot mine someplace and it died and I didn’t have any way to contact N- someone, and I didn’t want them to worry. I just feel bad that I haven’t told them anything and I think they might-”

“Kid, slow down.”

He did. His breath came back to him without him even realizing he was close to having a panic attack again. He just needed to talk to someone he knew and get some advice. Tell them he was still alive too, actually, and not somewhere dead in a gutter or something.

“Sorry. I just don’t want them to worry. They worry a lot and I don’t want to be-” he forced himself to stop when Tony Stark immediately drew out his cellphone and handed it to Peter.

“Don’t go messing around on anything else and don’t let them know anything about this.” Tony hummed to himself. “Do they know you’re Spiderman?”

Peter took the phone cautiously. “Yeah… but they’re good at keeping secrets.”

He nodded. “It’s good to have someone like that.” He stood from the chair, returned it to its original position and gave the kid a soft smile. “Bathroom is the second door down there,” he pointed to the other end of the med bay. “I’ll bring you a change of clothes. Call whoever it is you need and hop in that shower young man, don’t think of jumping out a window either. They’re shatter-proof and definitely Spider-proof. I’m serious.”

He left Peter to himself then, going out the main door of the med bay. 

What did I just get myself into?

A whole lot, that’s what.

Quickly opening up the phone, Peter pulled up the dial pad and entered the number he’d forced himself to memorize. He was glad he’d thought to do it.

He waited a moment, tapping his feet anxiously as it rang. It got to the point where the call was taking so long to be picked up that he almost gave up until he heard a familiar voice on the other end.

“This is Ned, who’s this?”

“Ned.” He smiled, relief flooding his vision and he clamped down at his chest with a hand. “It’s Peter.”

“I don’t- wait, Peter?” There was a breathy laugh on the line. “Are you- dude, are you okay? What happened? I’ve been so freaking worried about you, man.”

“I- I know.” Just like that, the anxiety came flooding back. “Look, I don’t think I can talk about everything just yet. I… I’m okay now, so don’t worry.”

“Oh. Okay. Pete, I heard about what happened to… you know.”

Peter was thankful he hadn’t said her name. Just the thought of it made him feel the tears prickling at the backs of his eyes.

“Everyone’s been wondering what happened to you. I didn’t recognize this number either, so I almost didn’t pick up. What happened to your phone, man? Where are you even staying at?”

Ned had such a kind-hearted soul.

Taking in a heaving breath, Peter said, “I’m using someone else’s phone. Sorry, mine died. Right now… I- I sorta got into some trouble as Spiderman and ended up in Stark tower. I’m okay, though. Someone patched me up.”

“Really?” Ned sounded shocked. “Did… do any of the Avengers know your identity?”

Peter worked his free hand through the goggles of his mask; capping and uncapping the plastic lenses. “Tony Stark was the one who found me.”

“What?!” 

Peter wasn't surprised by the excited yell, but flinched either way. “Yeah, um… don't make a big deal out of it.” He laughed nervously. “He was pretty cool, so I'm keeping my excitement to a minimum.”

“Man that must be rough.”

 

“You know it.”

Their conversation was followed by a comfortable silence until Ned softly said; “Peter. Where are you gonna go?”

His hands froze on where they sat on his mask. “I-” The nerves were steadily reappearing. “I don't know…”

“You could stay at my place maybe.” Ned provided.

“I can't. If- if the system finds out- Ned, I can't.”

As if the tension in Peter's voice had grown apparent, his friend quickly agreed.

“Oh my god, no, I get it. I'm so sorry, that's not what I meant.”

“It's okay. I'll figure something out…”

“Okay…”

Peter heaved a breath. “I gotta go for now. I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay. I'll- I'll talk to you when I can.”

“Okay. Thanks for telling me. And I'll be here if you ever need me.”

He hung up the phone, too worked up to say goodbye. The tears had begun to flow freely down his cheeks and he rubbed vigorously at his eyes.

By the time he stood up, leaving the phone on the chair, he was in complete sobs. His chest heaving and his face burning with shame. But he made his way towards said bathroom and quickly jumped into the shower.

Tony Stark, clothes of his that no longer fit in hand, opened the door softly. 

The guilt of hearing the kid's conversation gnawed strongly in his gut.


End file.
